


Sunrise

by marvel_ruined_my_life



Category: Marvel
Genre: Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 00:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17950265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_ruined_my_life/pseuds/marvel_ruined_my_life
Summary: There's not much left after the snap, for anyone. With no new leads, no plan, Thor is reduced to planting himself at his window and glueing his eyes to the sun. Those who survived have next to no choice but to just wait for something to happen. But is it worth holding onto hope anymore when any form of saving grace is just a grasp at staws in disguise?





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies, this isn't the first fan fiction I've ever written, but it IS my first Marvel one, and my first fic on this platform. So be nice and enjoy :)

Every day Thor sat by the window. Slouched over, tenaciously rubbing his hands together, staring. It started with waiting, but as each day droned on it seemed to just be a pass-time for him to peer out the window, or be lost in thought. Because what's left? What much is there to do? Everyone's lost a part of themselves since Wakanda, and Thor's only though;  _ you should have gone for the head- _ repeating like a demented mantra. His cognition blinded, formulating his own personal hell. 

 

There were no leads, no plan, and as far as Thor knows the only ones left are Natasha and Captain, and someone else he conjectured that the space cowboy some while ago mentioned to still be alive, a robotic woman with blue skin, he can't remember if he was ever told her name. 

 

_ "I remember the first time I found out brother had blue skin too.."  _

 

Thor smiled upon the thought, being quickly brought back to reality soon after. He knew there wasn't a chance in all of the nine realms that Loki would come back. Most days? Well, most days he sits staring at the sunrise in his room, reminiscing through what used to be, caught in his memories, flipping through them as if his mind was a rolodex. Only thinking what could have been if things played out differently. But he knew he couldn’t change what happened, and so, he sat. 

 

He thought too much. He tried keeping his thoughts in line, attempting to forever repress them. It was too familiar, and only served as a reminder that _his brother_ _wasn’t coming back._ It hurt, even in his head, he hated hearing himself say that _Loki was dead._

 

The day he realized that even if he had Loki's blade threatening his neck, or in his side, piercing through his skin, the warmth of the knife and Loki's triumphant expression (that if he recalls correctly, each time, had always flashed solicitude for a fraction of a second), well that would be better than waiting for the impossible to happen, waiting for him to come back. He's tried making his peace with it, as the notion of having control over what's happened or his feelings is all he has left now, even if it's fake, even if it's pretend. 

 

But one night, yet again he sat facing the window. He knew somehow that tonight would be much different than the others. 

 

He left his door ajar as he usually does, there was no sense in going out of his way to maintain privacy when he never left his room neither did anyone come to it. Establishing early on with the Captain and Natasha that if he needed anything,  _ which he wouldn't, _ he would just get it himself, but much appreciated their sympathies. He never truly did leave his room, aside from the rare times of going outside to watch midgardians live, walk by, “people-watching” as it were, only when his acquaintances’ condolences get too much to bear. The Captain, sharing a vague story about the many losses in his life, in an attempt to console Thor, relate to him, and Natasha, with as usually distant as she is with personal matters, expressing her understanding of his pain. While he greatly admired their efforts, and was soon getting used to his feelings of looming sorrow, hearing aloud any type of past traumas, even if it wasn’t his own, was too unpleasant. 

 

Thor knew they hadn't felt the same pain he had. What he was feeling wasn't worse, not by a landslide, nor was it any better, just, different. His pain wasn't regret, neither was it self-blame like the Captain's. And neither did he feel hopeless or empty like Natasha might have- but confused. 

 

Unsure of what to do next.

 

Though Thor hadn't registered it until Loki's decision to cause cosmic mischief, he knew that he and Loki were treated differently during childhood, at least by their father. It changed him. But it was still Loki, the Loki he always knew, and yet somewhere along the line, that bright-eyed child became full of hurt and bitterness. It took a long time for Thor, discerning that the resentful brother of his was the same person, still having impish quirks that his brother displayed whenever he saw him happy. Which was rarely, but they were still there. 

 

He soon came to learn almost each of Loki’s outbursts, each quarrel, was his brother feeling betrayal, the underlying exclusion, his qualms being manifested into reality- all of it- being masked by some form of erratic mass rebellion. It seemed to Thor that almost every time he lost his Brother, he both began to know more about him, while somehow  _ knowing him _ less than before. 

 

Thor was lost.  _ Unsure of what to do next. _

 

And later that night? 

 

Shuffling. The sound at the door would have startled him if they had been louder. The soft shuffling was the only thing he's heard for quite some time other than his own breathing, footsteps, and the beat of his heart against his head when he slept. 

 

"Is it really you?” Thor spoke unmoving, nothing if not shocked. But out of the corner of his eye he saw a brooding figure cloaked in black, the disappearing sunset only making the room darker than it was. 

 

"How did you know?" The voice spoke softly, matching the space in the room as the air sat like a thick blanket. 

 

"I'm not an oaf... completely.." he muttered. "I've known the melody of your footsteps since we were mere children, you surely didn't expect me not to notice you sneaking in? Even with your light feet." 

 

He stood up, facing the figure. He couldn't make out all the minuscule features, but he didn't have to. 

 

_ It was Loki. _

 

Confused is what he felt, but now instead of being confused and unwavering, he felt giddy, thinking for some reason he should be cautious, or suppress the electric in his chest, crawling up his spine, practically screaming at him;  **_your brother’s back._ **

 

He enveloped Loki, almost having to lean down, clasping his arms around Loki’s shoulders as if he was suddenly going to melt and slip through to the floor. Unaware he was shaking, he reached a hand to Loki's face, scrupulously touching his right cheek. 

 

"Valhalla must have me in a dream.." 

 

His hand felt cool on Loki’s skin, and he wiped the tears he felt tears glide down his brother’s face despite the warm grin he wore. Thor began soaking in his features and his eyes adjusted to the dark lighting. His brother's blue complexion and markings of Jötunheim caught him off-guard, and Loki seemed to notice. 

 

"Am I that hideous?" he jested. Thor could hear his voice cracking, faltering in the smug tone he always made such of an effort to maintain. 

 

"Of course not-” his eyes lingered.

 

“I actually find it quite fascinating,"

 

Loki felt his heart filling warmly while Thor was tracing the markings on his temple and cheeks with admiration and tenderness. 

 

"So much time I spent gazing out that window.. waiting for the perfect sunrise..." 

 

_ He’s home. _

 


End file.
